


Forgiven

by SunshineAndBunnies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, Crying, Discipline, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Paddling, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineAndBunnies/pseuds/SunshineAndBunnies
Summary: For Sam, forgiveness isn't accepted easily.AKA Spanking.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. Punished

Sam gets spanked every Friday. 

It’s been this way for a while now. Neither brother fully remembers how it started, only that it had fulfilled a deep seated need in both of them since their teenage years. For Dean, it soothes his instincts to take care of Sam, keep him close and under his guidance. And for Sam, it’s almost therapeutic. Allowing the only person alive he trusts enough to take their pound of flesh and wipe the slate clean. Doesn’t mean getting spanked didn’t hurt like a bitch though. 

Dean set rules for Sam to follow. He didn’t always like them, but he did his best anyway. First and foremost, he couldn’t go behind Dean’s back. They had agreed long ago that secrecy was what strained their relationship the most. For that, Sam would be punished severely. It was one of the few times Dean had used the belt on him. 

Another rule was being respectful to Dean. Unsurprisingly, this was a rule Sam failed to abide by frequently. He loved Dean, truly, but he had a way of getting under Sam’s skin like no one else. In light of this, Dean would let him get away with a few rude comments, before getting fed up and adding a mark to Sam’s talley for the week. That would usually stop any disrespect in its tracks. 

By the time Friday rolled around, Sam was dragging his feet in dread. He’d managed to rack up ten marks. If Dean decided to use the paddle, it’d be fifty strikes. His hand, a hundred. The idea of a punishment that harsh seemed like far more than Sam could take. 

Dean, apparently, thought so too. He and Sam sat opposite of each other at a little table in their motel room, drinking their morning coffee, shedding the last dregs of sleep. Dean’s face was thoughtful for a moment, before seemingly coming to a decision. He set his mug on the table and looked Sam in the eye. “I’m cutting your punishment in half.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. He was grateful, but that wasn’t really Dean’s style. 

“I don’t mean I’m taking half of your talley off,” Dean hurried to reiterate, “You’re getting punished twice. Half this morning, and half tonight.”

“Oh.” That made more sense to Sam. It was probably the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. Still, he wasn’t looking forward to getting his ass busted earlier than expected. His expression must’ve looked nervous, because Dean’s tone softened. 

“This won’t be any fun, Sammy, but I won’t hurt you. Not really. You know that.” He pushed his chair out, moving to sit on the side of his bed. “All right, let’s get this over with. Come here. You know the drill.”

Sighing, Sam stood, walking to stand to his brother’s left. He held out his arm, and Dean took him by the wrist, guiding him gently over his lap. Sam was a big guy, all long legs and muscled arms. It never failed to take a minute to get all of him arranged. The younger of the brothers pillowed his head in his crossed arms, mentally preparing himself. Dean always allowed him a few moments to just breathe and settle his nerves. Though he’d never admit it, it was when Sam felt safest. Nestled in against Dean’s body in an odd imitation of an embrace, his brother’s arm wrapped around his waist and a hand resting on his thigh. The weight of responsibility slipping easily off his shoulders. 

“You ready, Sammy?”

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Dean always started a spanking with a warm up. Even on those few occasions he’d been furious enough to use his belt. It reminded Sam he wasn’t in danger, it was just his brother, giving him what he needed, just like he’d always done. 

Dean lightly slapped at the seat of his jeans, barely enough to sting. These swats wouldn’t count towards Sam’s punishment, but they were just as necessary. He felt Sam’s body relax under his ministrations, “You’re safe, Sammy. Ain’t nothing going to hurt you. I got you.”

Sam had asked him once why he gave steady reassurances during a punishment. He'd struggled to find an answer. Taking care of his brother was as instinctive as breathing, and comfort had always been part of that. Usually, it was through wordless gestures, but Dean was happy to provide something more tangible if needed. 

Dean brought the warm up to a close with a few slightly harder swats to the undercurve of Sam's ass. He slipped a hand underneath him, fingers searching out the button of his jeans. "Alright, kiddo, hips up just a bit."

Sam obliged. In the earlier sessions, when they were still just teenagers, Dean had insisted on giving spankings out over his boxers. As time went on and Sam's pain tolerance increased, he craved the sharp sting and platonic intimacy of a firm hand on bare skin. Dean slipped his pants and underwear down to his mid thigh in one practiced motion. Sam could feel Dean's hand come to rest on his cheek, and a familiar anticipation built low in his stomach. Waiting was just as bad. "As it would seem, little brother, your smart mouth this week earned you about six marks. We'll go ahead and deal with five of those right now. How many licks is that, Sam?"

Sam replied without hesitation. "Fifty."

"That's right." Dean began the spanking in earnest. He brought his hand down with a solid crack, the noise echoing off the motel walls. It left Dean with a faint sting, and a pink handprint right across the center of Sam's bottom. He sucked in a breath at the pain, but silently resolved to take the rest quietly. The real waterworks would come later when his already sore hide got tanned raw. 

Dean liked to keep him guessing, spanking one spot so many times he thought he'd never move on, only to strike somewhere else with renewed passion. And that's what he was doing now. Sam's right cheek burned from the powerful, repeated smacks laid down there, made all the worse by the knowledge it was only a preview. Dean switched sides, cupping his hand slightly to get a better angle. Three of his hardest earned a small gasp from Sam. "I know what you're doing. I'm not gonna judge if you cry twice in a day, so just give it up. I've got you."

To emphasize his point, Dean swatted at his thighs and sit spots. He was nothing if not thorough, and his second punishment would be more effective with more ground covered now. Dean doubted he'd truly bring his brother to sobbing just yet, but a few sniffles would get the message across for now. 

Pausing, Dean asked, "How many was that?"

A wrong answer earned Sam an extra three swats. "Thirty… Five?" 

Dean let a touch of disappointment bleed into his tone. "Close, but no. We're at thirty-seven."

Sam's stomach clenched, and he groaned. He already felt like his ass was on fire. Any more seemed impossible to take, let alone extra. 

"Shh, you'll get through this." Dean's hand rubbed small circles on his back, and the touch soothed him a little. "Not that many more to go. For right now, at least."

"Don't remind me."

Dean laughed softly, and continued to punish his brother, nice and hard. The way they both needed. 

By this point, his hand felt pretty roasted too. He was glad for his hand's sake he'd be using the paddle tonight. Sam's backside, however, wouldn't appreciate it quite as much. Sam likely already suspected he'd be getting paddled later, but Dean preferred to let the anticipation build. 

He shifted his leg, pushing Sam's bottom further into the air. If Sam was going to cry at all, it would be now. Spanking sit spots hurt considerably more. "This'll be tough, but I'm right here. You don't have to do anything but lay there and take it, and it'll be over before you know it. Only a few more." 

He landed the first of his finishing onslaught on the sensitive skin where thigh met butt. Sam squirmed and blinked tears out of his eyes. He did his best to keep his breathing under control. The steady barrage of smacks built on each other, leaving a steady crescendo of pain in their wake. It hurt badly, and a part of him wanted to rebel against the punishment. Another, bigger part of him held him in place, kept in check by Dean's reassuring words and how badly he needed to feel clean and washed out. 

Two more solid licks landed on top of the first, and Sam cried out. Dean's only response was to move his free hand up to squeeze Sam's shoulder. 

He landed two sharp hits to the opposite thigh. "Almost done. Now, we just have the extra three. I want you to count those off, understand?"

Sam nodded his head against his arms. When he felt a stinging slap land on the middle of his ass, he breathlessly said, "One."

Another. "Shit! Two." 

"Last one, Sammy." 

Dean paused for a few seconds, waiting until his brother tensed slightly. Then he brought his hand down in a wide arc, not holding back at all. 

"Ow! Three!"

Dean gently rubbed at the abused flesh, whispering comfort to Sam. "Hush, little brother, you're forgiven. You're okay, I'm okay, everything's fine. Just breathe."

Emotion welled up in Sam's chest, bright and powerful. He felt loved and cared for, clean. He couldn't help the tears that slipped past his defenses, and it didn't really matter. Dean had him.

Sam allowed himself a few moments to breathe, and then slid off Dean's lap. He quickly pulled up his pants to cover himself, grimacing at the sting. Dean watched his face, suppressing the urge to draw his sleeve over the heel of his hand and dry his brother's tears. 

"Feeling better?"

A quiet sniffle, and then, "Yeah. I'm good."

Dean stood, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Good. Busy day ahead of us. We leave in fifteen."


	2. Forgiven

Dean left the paddle and handcuffs (the kind with a safety release) in plain sight all day. They rested on Dean's bed, ominous in Sam's mind, a silent promise.

Sam was almost ready to get it over with by the time they were both winding down for the day. His ass was sore as hell, sitting had been a massive inconvenience, and the dread had been building since morning. Sam had considered begging Dean to hold off until tomorrow, but he knew it would get him nowhere. Dean was already fudging their routine slightly, he wouldn't make any more allowances. 

"Go get ready for bed, Sammy. And don't bother with pants. You won't be needing them." 

Dean was fantastic at playing up the mental aspect of punishment. He knew just how to make Sam squirm before he'd even gotten him over his knee. His words echoed in Sam's head while he brushed his teeth, and the lingering burn of this morning's activities reminded him of what was to come. When Sam emerged, in only a T-shirt and boxers, Dean smiled at him. Yet another silent promise, and Sam knew he was in for it. 

"C'mere, kid," Dean gestured at his lap, seated on his bed, "We're using the cuffs tonight. I don't want you breaking your fingers."

Sam had to agree. He'd made the mistake of trying to cover the exposed skin of his backside during a paddling a few times, and it had hurt something awful. He walked to stand at Dean's right and let his body be guided over Dean's spread thighs. Dean leaned over him, cuffs in hand, and gently secured his wrists to the headboard. "Comfortable?" 

The younger nodded. Dean began rubbing small circles on his back, helping him to relax and brace himself. He took a straying breath and said, "Okay. I'm ready."

Dean warmed him up with the paddle, barely hitting him. With the already existing sting, Dean took extra care to be gentle. A spanking didn't do either of them much good if Sam wasn't in the right mindset. "It's just me and you, and I won't let anything hurt you. I'll be right here through all of this. You'll feel loads better when it's over."

Sam felt himself sink into a place in his head only Dean could take him, where he knew he'd be cared for and pay the price for his actions and be forgiven. 

"Warm up's over, little bro."

And without further preamble, he pulled Sam's boxers around his knees, and set to work on Sam's already blistered ass. The first strike of hard, unforgiving wood landed right across both cheeks, and Sam fought down a whimper. That  _ stung _ . The second wasn't any better, falling with precision just below the first. Sam was better prepared for it this time. Dean brought the paddle down five times more with punishing relentlessness. 

Dean brought the implement to rest on Sam's vulnerable flesh for a moment, knowing from experience how hard it was to take the paddle. Sam's hands were clenched in fists around the cheap metal headboard, demonstrating soundlessly the pain he was in. Dean could sympathize. "Shh, Sammy, you're alright. You can take it."

When the paddle struck another blow, Sam couldn't stop a small sob from escaping. Dean was not going easy on him. If the cuffs hadn't kept his hands in place, he's sure he would've made an instinctive attempt to protect his abused bottom. The paddle never failed to sear a deep burn into its target, and a residual ache underneath. He loved that his brother would do this for him, pull him over his knee and give him a good spanking when he needed it, but it still fucking  _ hurt.  _

Dean gave him several licks in quick succession, the wood lighting his butt on fire. His older brother, with all his practice delivering firm discipline, did not leave his thighs and sit spots ignored for long. He adjusted his brother's hips to get a better aim, and wood met sensitive skin with blistering force. Sam really began to cry, tears dripping off his chin and onto the bed. He choked on a sob at the next blow, beginning to protesthours punishment. "Dean, I'm s-sorry, I won't back talk you or leave the weapons out or… Just, please." 

He wasn't quite sure what he was asking for. Dean to finish it up, stop altogether, or spank him harder. Dean seemed to know, though. "We're already at twenty. It's almost over, just breathe. These last ones will be harder. I want you to count for me, Sammy."

He gave his deep-red ass a solid whipping, and Sam cried out numbers through his tears, until finally they reached the last number. Dean pulled his arm back, and without ceremony, slapped the paddle down across Sam's ass. His whole body jerked under the blow, and his wrists pulled at their bindings. 

Sam was a blubbering mess, and Dean decided to excuse the pitiful attempt at a number in exchange for undoing the cuffs around Sam's wrists. They slid off easily, and he brought his hands to his face, body shaking with sobs. Dean sat him up in his lap, tucking the brunette head into his shoulder, carding soothing fingers through his hair. "Hush, Sammy, shh, I've got you. I'll always take care of you. You've paid your dues. You can forgive yourself now." 

They stayed like that for a while, rocking slightly, Dean murmuring soothing nonsense into his ear while he cried himself out. He felt warm, absolved, and safe. 

When his crying slowed enough to properly speak, he pulled back to look at Dean. His eyes flicked to the wet spot on his shoulder. "Sorry. About your shirt." 

Dean grinned and slapped his shoulder lightly. "Geek. Don't worry about that. We've gotta get some lotion on that," He made a vague gesture to Sam's bottom, "Or there'll be hell to pay come morning. C'mon, stand up." 

Sam obeyed, and watched Dean pull the covers of his bed aside. He motioned for Sam to lay down, and Sam sprawled gratefully on his stomach after kicking off the underwear that had slid down to his feet. His brother sat besides him, pulling at the cap of a cheap motel lotion bottle. Somehow, it wasn't awkward when it came to this part. He heard the squirt of the moisturizer and felt the cool relief on his sore skin, Dean not bothering to warm it between his hands first. They chatted idly while he worked the lotion in, his gentle motions doing wonders to soothe the burn. "Better?"

Dean wasn't expecting much of a reply, and only got a mumbled response. Sam always dropped off to sleep after a severe spanking, and today was no different. He stood, pulled the covers over little brother, and ruffled his hair.

"Night, Sam."

**Author's Note:**

> Honeslty, comments are the best. To anyone who liked this story, I'd love to hear what you thought. The next part will be up sometimes soon.


End file.
